


What is left...

by Nuredhel



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cousins, Drama, Falling In Love, Hidden Feelings, M/M, Rescue, Retrospective, Romance, Slash, Thangorodrim, Yearning, great eagle, never losing faith, secret husbands, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:35:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28285572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nuredhel/pseuds/Nuredhel
Summary: Fingon is remembering the very beginning, trying to avoid the very end...
Relationships: Maedhros/Fingon
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17
Collections: Tolkien Secret Santa 2020





	What is left...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fivefingons](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Fivefingons).



What is left….

The cold wind was like knives, cutting into his flesh without mercy nor any end. It was difficult, harder than almost everything else he had done in this life and yet he had to make it, they had to get back to the camp, and soon. The body resting within his grasp was trembling and he knew that it was just a matter of time before the almost skeletal ellon would succumb to the loss of blood and the shock. He had wrapped the trembling body in his own cloak for his cousin had been naked on the mountain side. Now he felt how the wind tore at him and made him too shiver beyond control. And yet there hadn’t been a choice, It had been the only way, the only chance. He couldn’t let his cousin, his beloved, die. He did cling onto the thick feathers of the great eagle and closed his eyes, praying that they would get there in time, that it wouldn’t be too late. He hadn’t gone through all this to fail, no, never! 

He did remember everything so very well, all veiled in the glow of youth and hope: Like a dream you do remember but are unable to return to, even when you wish to. Life had been good back then, perhaps not trouble free but it was a paradise compared with the current situation. He had been so naïve, so very eager to prove himself and become somebody in his own right, not just his father’s son. He did remember warm evenings in the light of the trees, mornings filled with the crisp golden light and the sound of laughter, of carefree joy. Had it really been that much of an idyll? Probably not, but the mind is an odd thing, it prefers to remember the good things and hide the less pleasant memories. 

He did however remember how it had begun very well, with the typical elven perfection, every nuance, every feeling, every detail. He had always looked up to his half cousin, as a child he had at times been like his shadow, eagerly following the older ellon everywhere, eager to learn and to be near him. Maybe his soul already then knew what his youthful mind didn’t manage to understand, it could be subconscious. But then he had started his studies and for years he didn’t see Nelyo at all, but he did miss the friendship, the feeling of being accepted and respected, of being special. Everybody had said that it was very sweet of his cousin to take such good care of the young ellon, it was cute. 

But he had changed, his entire life and existence did change as he grew older, as the duties and chores were placed upon him and he did try to please them all, his parents, his family, his teachers. He did often miss the old carelessness, the ability to just go out there and do whatever he wanted to. But he was a prince, a royal person and his choices were limited. He would have to do as the others did, and be content that way for what other way was there? He hadn’t questioned it at all until that fateful day when he returned to Tirion and once again met his cousin. It had been a very warm day and he had been out for a short ride, he was hurrying back to his room to change his clothes when he heard voices and stopped, curious to whoever it was speaking. He was to have a meeting with his grandfather that evening, apparently the high king had something he wanted to discuss with his grandson. 

He walked towards the hall, there were several other elves there and they were discussing something, it did sound as if it was the new bridge over the nearby river which was the subject. He stopped, felt as if his feet suddenly had become glued to the floor, he did only see him, Nelyo. He did look majestic, wearing a light robe in a dark green colour which made the gorgeous mane of auburn red hair shine like embers. The room could have been covered with gemstones, rubies and emeralds, even diamonds and yet none would have shone as bright as this one being. He kept staring, unable to place his gaze somewhere else. For what else was there to stare at?   
Nothing could be compared with this wonder, this incarnation of masculine beauty. He had long suspected that he was of those who did prefer his own gender but it wasn’t something which was openly discussed. He knew that his cousin was the same as he always had been, elves don’t change after all, but in his mind’s eye Nelyo had suddenly become something very different from the person he had been during Fingon’s childhood years. He had been an idol back then, someone strong and wise and brave and now? All that had been switched for a feeling he didn’t know, something new and aching and the pull was absolutely undeniable. 

Nelyo didn’t notice him, he stood there, gesticulating and explaining something to the others there. The years really hadn’t changed him at all, the height and the wide shoulders, the fiery hair and all. Nelyo had been almost an adult back when Fingon was a mere elfling and he suddenly felt self conscious, as if he wasn’t worthy of being there, of looking at Nelyo at all. What was he really compared with this vision of elegance and elven beauty? A mere shadow.   
He was about to turn around, return to his rooms when he heard a voice calling his name. A voice that made his entire body tingle, as if somebody was lovingly touching every nerve with the gentlest of touches. “Fingon? Is that really you?” 

He managed to smile, to turn again and greet his cousin and Nelyo walked towards him with the characteristic determination. He didn’t have time to react before he was pulled into a hug and he gasped, it felt…electric. He had never reacted that way to a hug before. He just stood there for several seconds, transfixed and not sure of what to do or what to say. Nelyo didn’t seem to notice the awkward situation at all, he was grinning. “Nobody told me you were back, Eru how you have changed!”

Fingon tried to smile, tried to look self-assure and calm. “I cannot say the same about you, but changed how? I am pretty much the same I would think?” 

Nelyo did roll his eyes. “Are you blind? You have grown a lot, and you do really look like an adult now. How far away is your coming of age ceremony?” 

Fingon tried to clear his mind. “In the autumn, there isn’t time to celebrate before after the summer” 

Nelyo had let go now, it felt a wee bit better, he was rather overwhelming to have that close. Fingon had already realized that Nelyo still were several inches taller than him and the hug had revealed that even if his cousin was trained in diplomacy and courtly business he was obviously training also for battle for the body was that of a warrior, hard and lean. The thought sent his heart racing, once again. Nelyo was cocking his head. “That is just some months away, my how the time flows” 

Fingon did nod, his mouth dry. Nelyo’s robes in deep green and golden brocade did match his fiery hair perfectly, as did the copper circlet on his brow. Fingon had never seen his cousin looking this majestic and this beautiful before. It was probably simply because he hadn’t been thinking about his cousin in such a manner back then, Nelyo had been a friend, a person who did provide him with entertainment and knowledge and a person who treated him with respect and acceptance. Fingon had always had some problems with his self-respect, he felt insecure and sort of different from the others and he had always been a bit introverted. He did do well in training though, he had a body almost made for all sorts of activities and that made him shun the courtly life, perhaps more than he should. The fact that he could run and ride and win more than half of the competitions he did enter was his pride and joy. 

He managed to relax a little more. “Yes, it is weird really. It feels like yesterday when I was following you around everywhere” 

Nelyo chuckled. “Oh yes, I remember. You were rather cute I must say. Do you recall that one time you stole your mother’s rhubarb pie?” 

Fingon had to blink a few times, desperately. Did Nelyo still remember that terrible day? Nelyo was grinning from one ear to the next. “I will never forget it, you hid underneath a table in the rose garden and ate the entire pie. It was a bloody mess!” 

Fingon did remember, oh how he did remember. He had nicked the tasty treat from his mother’s living room and hid to eat it and he had made a mess, the filling was blood red and mushy and he had almost covered himself in the stuff. His mother did faint when she saw him, Nelyo found him and carried him back inside, rhubarb fillings and all. And the stomach ache he had developed that evening had been nothing less than epic, he had spent the entire night on the privy. And that was the first thing Nelyo did remember about him? Oh shame!  
Nelyo did pat him on the back. “Relax, you still got nothing on Tyelko, he is legendary”

Fingon had to laugh, he suddenly felt way better. The other elves had sort of drifted away and it was just him and Nelyo there now. “Yeah, I have a lot to be grateful about” 

Nelyo was leading him towards a couch surrounded by potted plants and some tables. “I will never forget how mother blew her fuses when we found Tyelko in the dog pen, he was covered with dog shit and buck naked, she had to cut his hair to get all the filth out of it” 

Fingon sat down, the room was almost empty now. He was hungry but seeing Nelyo again had sort of made him forget about it all. “ Yes, I remember being told of that incident.” 

He found a more relaxing position. “So, how is everybody doing these days?” 

Nelyo tilted his head and flung his hair back, it was like silk in texture and suddenly Fingon wanted nothing more than to run his hands through it. “Fine, Father thinks that he can train Curufin to become even better than him in the forge. I say it is a lost cause” 

Fingon frowned, he hadn’t really paid attention to what the other half of the family was doing for several years, he had been too busy and too absorbed by his studies. “Why? I thought that your brother was brilliant?” 

Nelyo made a vague gesture. “He is, but father has such high expectations, it kills his creativity. Curufin has all the technical skills needed to surpass even father but he lacks that unique creativity. It is his weakness” 

Fingon understood, it was the same in their family. They were all very different and he knew that his parents would be disappointed sooner or later. A person’s life rarely follows a straight path. He already knew that they were worried about his sister, she was way too reckless and wild and refused to behave like a true lady. Fingon was rather proud of her.   
They remained seated there for a whole hour, sharing fond memories and when they did separate Fingon had agreed upon meeting Nelyo again the next day. 

And thus it began, a slow and careful process which was so very well hidden and so very much wanted. From meetings in the gardens to strolls along the shores of the local lakes, sometimes talking and other times just sharing the silence. He hadn’t been sure at all back then, he hadn’t known whether or not this was just an attempt at rekindling a friendship or something more. He had been so very naïve and so very inexperienced. 

There was snow in the air, odd really that he had managed to find Nelyo at all. The steep cliffs caught the wind and created odd eerie sounds and the clouds had been hanging so very low. He had often doubted Eru after they left Tirion, he had doubted that there was any hope, that there was even a reason to try. But they had to, it wasn’t in them to give up. And he had known for so long that something was wrong, that Nelyo was in danger. He felt it through their bond but he couldn’t reveal what he knew to the others, not without revealing the truth, the fact that they were bonded, that he never would marry an elleth and have heirs. 

The trek had been hellish, and he had often cursed his own stubbornness, his lack of common sense. Wandering off into the wilderness like that, and even more so, the enemy’s territory. It had been teeming with orcs and foul creatures which didn’t even have name in his native tongue. He had managed to slip through unseen and perhaps there was some mercy within the seemingly cold hearts of the valar after all. He chose to believe that there was a hint of pity reserved for them, in spite of their deeds. He hadn’t any food left, he had only a few arrows and he was so very close to the very fortress of the enemy. He could almost smell it on the air, the acrid stench of evil and death, of torment and destruction. The death of all hope. 

But Nelyo was alive, and he had felt him the entire time, faintly only but there was no doubt. He would have known if his lover was dead, and when he heard the news, that Fëanaro was dead and that Nelyo had been captured he knew that he couldn’t hesitate. He had lain there alone in his mottled blankets and furs and the memories of what they had shared had been all that kept him warm during that horrible march across the ice. Now he did cling to the unconscious body in front of him and whispered continuously, begging him to stay, to remember what had been, what they could have again.

The day it all changed had never been forgotten, it did stick with him and not even the horrors which followed later on managed to corrupt it. They had been riding out to the mountains to look for valuable minerals and Fingon had talked his way into joining Nelyo. His mother didn’t like it, she said there were too many rumours being told about Nelyo, that she didn’t approve of their friendship. Fingon knew of those rumours, he had heard them now that he had stayed in Tirion for a while and they all boiled down to the same thing, that Nelyo definitely didn’t care about females at all. They said that he changed lovers like others change their outfits and it did make Fingon feel a bit odd. One part of him was excited, then there was hope that Nelyo may notice him not as a relative but as a male. The other half was jealous, wanting to rip those others in half. He already knew that he was in love with his cousin, that his feelings were true. But he hadn’t dared to check if Nelyo felt the same, he wouldn’t be able to bare it if Nelyo still regarded him as a kid, as some sort of sidekick or simply a friendly face. 

He tried to look for hints all the time, tried to find clues within the way his cousin did behave but it was darn hard. Nelyo was just himself, cheerful and always the optimist. He would entertain Fingon with anecdotes from the court and stories from his travels around within Aman. Fingon hadn’t really had time to see that much of the interior of the country and he did enjoy travelling with Nelyo, a lot! There was always something new to see and to discuss and he didn’t reveal his own feelings, fearful that it would ruin the status quo. As it was he was happy, he ought to be happy with it, satisfied even. He was given the friendship of a wonderful person and who was he to hope for more than that.

They had been checking out some narrow gorges and it had left them both dirty and sweaty and there was a pond nearby so they decided to take a bath. It was getting late and the light from the trees was low and changing from gold to silver. Fingon had never seen Nelyo naked before, and the sight had caused him to regret agreeing to the bath. How would he be able to hide his feelings, his desire now? He didn’t want to ruin it, the camaraderie, the relaxed atmosphere, the feeling of trust. What if Nelyo did prefer males who did look different from Fingon? What if he didn’t think Fingon was attractive at all? 

There had been oh so many occasions when Fingon had to suddenly leave in the middle of a conversation or a session of training, being overcome by the sudden burning urge to touch, to taste and be taken, made whole. He had put a hand to himself more times than he could count, and the mere idea of being intimate with Nelyo was enough to make him almost frantic. Sometimes he did wonder if there was something wrong with him, if he was tainted or marred the way some said that Fëanaro was marred. The fire which had started to burn within was so horribly strong, and yet so terribly enticing, so sweet and so tempting and at the same time it frightened him beyond belief. He had no control! None whatsoever. That couldn’t be normal for one of the eldar? He was an adult now, and an elf and not some rutting animal but he felt like one, like he was completely unable to keep his thoughts on the straight and narrow whenever Nelyo was near. He could have dressed in ashes and old rags, Fingon would still have felt mad with sheer desire. 

But he managed to get into the pond, before Nelyo and it was deep, so deep it hid his obvious erection. Nelyo was perfection, he knew now why Nerdanel had given him the mother name Maitimo, the well made one. For it was true, so very true. The long legs, sleek and muscular, the narrow hips, defined muscles, the wide back and shoulders, chiselled chest and stomach. The way the fiery hair did flow down over skin like alabaster. It made Fingon’s mouth go dry, his heart did speed up and he was sweating, even if the water was far from hot. He turned his back to Nelyo, tried to hum nonchalantly as he found a bar of soap and prepared to wash his hair. The day had been long and hard and they had been forced to climb through some bushes so there were twigs in his long dark mane. He was just glad there weren’t any burrs there, Turgon had once been thrown of a horse and landed in a huge patch of burrs and it took the better half of a day to get it all out. His brother was rather vain. 

He concentrated on the water and the job, tried to ignore that Nelyo was there, just feet away from him, naked. If he turned around and stared Nelyo would know for there was no way in hell he could hide his emotions now, he had to avoid the temptation.   
Then he heard it, the voice, straight behind him, so close he felt the warm breath. “Allow me to help you with that…” 

He froze, didn’t dare to move, didn’t dare to make a sound. He is gonna find out. He is gonna hate me! His own inner voice was panicky and thin, oh what was he to do now? If he tried to get away Nelyo would first of all become suspicious and second of all become irritated or see it as an insult. He didn’t want to go through the humiliation of having to explain himself, not now, not ever. Hands slid through his long black mane, removed the twigs, then massaged the scalp and Fingon was in agony, in despair. His body was trembling, Nelyo was touching him, for real. It was too much, too overwhelming for his poor mind to process there and then. Then suddenly two arms did snake their way around him, pulled him backwards, towards the warm body of his cousin and Fingon let out a yelp, a small shriek from sheer shock. Panic and arousal fought him for dominance and he felt as if his legs had turned to jelly. If he tried to walk he would collapse.

Nelyo chuckled, a low soft sound, then Fingon felt a soft kiss, barely a touch on his shoulder. His breath stopped, he couldn’t believe it, what was this? It couldn’t be? One kiss became more, a slow steady row of tiny touches, slowly moving up towards his neck and in between there were small bites, barely more than a tiny nick but they sent his blood boiling. He was shivering, hands hanging limply by his side, he was panting, no coherent thoughts seemed to be able to form at all. Then Nelyo whispered into his ear. “Oh Finno, I have been so unfair to you. Don’t you think that I would understand?” 

Fingon heaved for air, one of the hands did move downwards, finding his aching heated flesh and gently yet firmly stroking it, with obvious experience. Fingon thought he would pass out. Nelyo knew? He had known the whole darn time? Oh Eru! He didn’t have time to think another thought, his body did react to the touches, and it did react in a manner which made him almost pass out. The shock of the revelation and the shock of being touched by the one being he did desire more than anything else in the world sent his senses rearing, made him come so hard he was screaming, hips jerking of their own accord and Nelyo kept stroking his cock throughout the entire orgasm, leisurely and with obvious care. Fingon was almost sobbing when it finally let go of him, his legs couldn’t carry him at all, his mind was spinning and he felt…he couldn’t come anywhere near being able to describe it. 

Nelyo picked him up like he was a ragdoll and carried him out of the water. There were some towels there and he was deposited on them, still not daring to believe that this was real. Nelyo had done it just to be kind right? Just to help him gain a clear head. That had to be the truth of it, he couldn’t dare to hope for something more. 

Nelyo laid down next to him, Fingon saw that he too was hard and the sight made him moan. Nelyo was huge, in fact so large it frightened him but at the same time he felt a sort of frantic hope. If Nelyo wanted to claim him it was alright. He wouldn’t stop his cousin at all, even if it would have to hurt. He didn’t care. Hands did slide through his hair again. “I am so sorry that I haven’t come clean about this Finno, I had to be sure about your feelings first. After all, we are half cousins and our families, well, you know the deal” 

Fingon held his breath. “You…you mean it?” 

His voice was thin, weak, shaking. Nelyo smiled. “I am, I have missed you for many years you know, and when I saw you again…”

He bit his lower lip and it did send hot waves through Fingon’s body. “I couldn’t believe my own eyes, that that coltish young thing had turned into a dark beauty, so sensual and so very tempting. Oh how my blood burned for you, for your touch, for your passion.” 

Fingon gasped. “You…like me?” 

Nelyo leaned over him. “I love you Finno, I guess I have since…Eru knows when. I have tried to drive your memory from my mind but to no prevail, you are the one, my true love” 

It was too much, too powerful. Fingon felt like crying, with relief, with shock, with a flow of feelings so wild and unexpected and wonderful it was more than he could bare. He sobbed. “I love you too Nelyo” 

The tall redhead nodded. “I know, such feelings cannot be hidden now can they?”

He leaned even closer and then he kissed the black haired male, a real kiss, not just a swift peck on the cheek as so many times before. Fingon moaned again, it sent shockwaves through him and he craved contact again, friction. That wild rush that was a climax, the total surrender to his own needs. He answered the kiss, almost desperately. Nelyo broke it off after a few seconds. “Easy there. No need to rush it. Have you been with anyone before?” 

Fingon shook his head. “No, never”

Nelyo kissed him again, very gently. “Good, then I can show you how it is done, without pushing you too far” 

Fingon held his breath. “Are you gonna…you know? Fuck me?” 

Nelyo shook his head. “No, not yet. You need a calm head then, and to be thoroughly prepared too. No, but I will enjoy helping you calm down” 

Fingon had already reacted, he was stone hard and trembling, aching for a touch. Nelyo chuckled and pushed himself down a bit, started to lick and suck Fingon’s nipples and he had never imagined that they could be that sensitive, and that it could feel that good. It made him moan and arch and Nelyo kept going, moving downwards. Fingon knew what he was about to do, after all he wasn’t stupid but he had never imagined that Nelyo would ever want to do that to him, not even in his wildest fantasies. He was sweating all over now, heart racing again, grasping onto locks of silky red hair as Nelyo expertly started to go down on him, using lips and tongue in a way that make Fingon see stars and sparks and it didn’t take long before he arched and howled, spilling again so hard it made his entire body spasm.   
Nelyo didn’t seem to mind at all, he took his cousins cock deep and swallowed the whole load of cum, without hesitation. Fingon didn’t doubt Nelyo’s confession at all at this point, how could he really?

Nelyo didn’t let go, kept using his tongue and Fingon hadn’t believed that he was physically able to get hard again after two mind blowing orgasms but he did and Nelyo did let go, crept up and turned them so they laid stomach to stomach, on their sides. Then he caught them both in one hand and started to stroke while kissing Fingon with zeal and Fingon did keen with sheer joy, it was real and it was happening and it was wonderful, no, more than that. He kept staring at Nelyo’s face, saw how his eyes changed as he got closer to his own release and Fingon watched in awe as Nelyo closed his eyes and groaned, his body tensing up. The feeling of warm liquid spurting out between them was enough, the sheer excitement made Fingon spill too, not as violently as the last time but a longer more drawn out climax, one which seemed to refuse to let go of him. They laid there, straining against one another, panting and whispering their lovers name and when they finally calmed down Nelyo got a cloth and washed them both. Fingon was hovering, flying in a state of absolute bliss and Nelyo simply grasped their cloaks and wrapped them around them, it was late and they both needed to sleep now. 

The next morning Fingon returned the favour by sucking off Nelyo, it made his jaw ache and it was a bit difficult for him but he did make his lover come and he did also manage to swallow, even though the bitter salty taste was a bit nasty. From that day on everything was different. They both knew that this had to be kept hidden, they were half cousins and both males and it would be frowned upon by everybody, even the valar. They couldn’t stand the idea of being separated, not even for a few days. 

And so began an intricate dance, a game played with everything at stake. They couldn’t meet too often, so they made plans which would allow them to meet every now and then, and it would seem random and just ordinary. Each time they were together the bond grew stronger, more true. But they didn’t go all the way, Fingon learned all that there was to know before Nelyo dared to fuck him. The first time they broke that barrier too was rather hard for Fingon, he had been prepared very well and wanted it so badly and yet the deed brought just as much pain as pleasure. Nelyo was after all very well endowed and Fingon a virgin and Nelyo had to get him really drunk, just so he was able to relax properly. But whence it was done he did learn how to relax and soon they were busy fucking whenever they could. Fingon did also take Nelyo and it was just as wonderful as being claimed, it too made him feel whole and complete. 

They were experts at finding places where they could do it without being caught, to steal small moments which were just their own. They would tryst in the stable, in the basement, they would act like rutting deer in the gardens, enjoy the pools and each other in the middle of the night. Nelyo would pull Fingon into an alcove behind a stair during a feast, pull his pants down and fuck him hard against the wall and Fingon would wander around for the rest of the night with Nelyo’s seed leaking out of him, making his pants feel sticky and cold but it only made him feel free debauched and naughty and made him act with a great deal of self- assuredness. It hadn’t been that way before and some did notice the change in him, the glow and the obvious joy. 

Then rumours started to spread yet again and Fingon felt a sort of panic, he was seriously afraid that his father would push him into marrying some elleth he didn’t even know and Nelyo came up with a solution. It was both ingenious and a bit bold. He knew a couple of ellith who were lovers and not interested in males at all and he did arrange it so that he and Fingon was seen with the couple on a few occasions. That was a smart trick for suddenly everybody believed that Nelyo and Fingon were courting those two and that they just moved forth very slowly courtship wise. It did buy them some freedom and Fingon did like the two ellith, they were very well aware of the little scam and its implications and Nelyo did confess that it was far from unlikely that they would have to go ahead and marry the two girls, just to stop the nagging about marriage and heirs. 

But then things changed, and Fingon hadn’t really noticed that other rumours did spread. He was busy and didn’t speak much with his father nor anyone else at court and when he realized the severity of the situation it came as a shock. There were many now who wanted Finwë to choose Fingolfin as his crown prince instead of Fëanaro, claiming that he was unfit to rule, marred and dangerous. Others on the other hand were against Fingolfin and the court was really like a kennel filled with vicious dogs now. There was barking and snarling everywhere and the king probably felt rather trapped. But Nelyo was worried, the constant pressure and Fëanaro’s growing paranoia put a strain on them all and he was truly heartbroken when his mother decided to move back to her father. It was unheard of among the eldar, a wife abandoning her husband! It truly gave some of the worst rumour makers a real boost, it had to be true then, that the crown prince was some degenerate wicked creature, responsible for the death of his poor mother. 

Fingon was often called home, and he hated it. He knew that his mother had suspicions and he didn’t want to confront her. The political situation was so very tense now, Nelyo said that it was the fallen vala Melkor who was behind it all, that he poisoned people’s minds and turned them against each other. Fëanaro was the person most affected by it, driven towards madness by the lies and taunts. When his uncle did threaten Fingon’s father with a sword at court Fingon was not there, but he heard of it and his heart did sink when he realized that Fëanaro had been exiled to Formenos. That meant that Nelyo would follow him and Fingon had no reason to go there. Fingon had a terrible feeling of impending doom, Nelyo tried to calm him down the night before they had to go, to reassure him that it was alright, that they always would be together. That night they said their vows, fulfilling the bonding. From now on they were as one, married in the eyes of Eru. 

He would always remember that night. It was the most wonderful night of his life, he had felt utterly loved, utterly accepted and the sanctity of what they did transformed it into a sacral act. Neither would ever be the same, and they knew it. 

Nelyo left for Formenos and Finwë did follow his son into exile, the court was acting like a hive of angry wasps, the rumours and power play getting harsher and more vicious by the day. Fingon had to stay close to his father who know did rule in Finwë’s stead but it was hard. Being apart from Nelyo was hard on him, so very hard. Everybody did notice and he was rather sure that Fingolfin did know but chose not to say anything. 

Fingon was with the others at court when darkness fell on that terrible day, Fëanaro had been called back to Tirion, to talk things through with Fingolfin and things had seemed to go in the right direction when there was an odd sound, almost a moan being heard from the outside and it got dark. Fingon was terrified, he had never experienced such a darkness before but older elves who had come from Ennorath found torches and lamps and they managed to calm themselves. It was obvious that the trees no longer gave light and many did panic. 

The truth was revealed, Melkor had used the dark power Ungoliant in the shape of a spider, it had killed the trees. And he had stolen the silmarilli, and killed Finwë. Fëanaro went mad, and for a while everything was absolute chaos. Everybody went to Formenos and Fingon saw his dead grandfather and he did almost collapse. He had never seen a dead elf before, nobody born in Aman had. That night he and Nelyo spent the night together in Nelyo’s rooms, they didn’t care if anyone saw them together. They were driven by grief and desperation and when the morning came without light both were exhausted and emotionally drained. 

The next stage of his life was blurred into a mixture of fear, blood and despair. Feanaro had returned, and there had been such a wild flame burning in his gaze, such an uncrushable will. He had gathered them all on the square and Fingon had already known the moment his uncle raised his sword. This was the end of them, of everything, of every dream and every hope. There would be no way back. Fëanaro did swear a horrible oath and Fingon watched as Nelyo too swore, with a clear voice. Fingon wanted to scream, to ask him to shut up but he couldn’t, his husband was bound by that oath now and there was no way back. 

Fëanaro had been leading them towards the coast and Alqualonde and Fingon had been a part of his father’s host. He had walked with heartache in his soul and he felt that Nelyo wasn’t any less affected than himself. But the fiery speech, the grief and the rage had removed all doubt, all reason. They wanted to avenge their king and bring back what was taken from them. When they arrived at the harbour they did arrive to a scene of carnage, Fingon had a hard time believing what he saw but he didn’t hesitate in helping his husband and the other noldor taking the ships. He did have blood on his hands, just like so many others. They were doomed now, and they knew it. Their hopes and dreams made worthless, empty and void, all because of Morgoth, the enemy. 

Fingon never believed that Nelyo had abandoned them, that he had been a part of the burning of the ships. He knew deep within that Nelyo would have protested against his father’s decision. But it didn’t make things any better, the long cold march did claim so many lives and caused great pain and sorrow and he did at times fight within himself to keep believing. But he kept feeling Nelyo. Faintly but real, a thin beam of light in the darkness, a hope.   
And so he had taken off into the darkness, like a thief in the night, desperate to save his one true love. They said he was valiant but the truth was probably that he was desperate. 

He couldn’t go on without Nelyo, without knowing that he had done everything within his power to find him, to save him. It was simply something he had to do, there was no choice.   
And then he had found him, chained to that sheer cliff face, so far up above the ground. It had been a sickening sight, and the despair and sorrow which gripped his very heart ought to have killed him. But it didn’t, Nelyo had begged him for death, for a release from the suffering and he had been ready to do it, to shoot his beloved. That the great eagle did show up was a miracle, something he hadn’t even dreamed was possible. And Thorondor had carried him up to the cliff, hanging on to the rock with talons like steel. 

Fingon had felt sick when he got closer to Nelyo and saw the state he was inn, the body a living skeleton, the hair a matted mess, the wounds, the infections, the horrible scars. And the manacle, the thrice cursed device of Morgoth. He felt the dark magic laid within the steel, it would never open, never give way. He had nothing which could force it apart, and for a moment he did fear that he would have to do it even with the help from the eagle, that he would have to face his husband as he freed his soul from its earthly bonds. Then he remembered his sharp dagger and realized that there was a way, but it did mean that he would have to maim his cousin for life. 

And there was no choice now was there? Not really, he had found Nelyo alive and now he had to keep it that way, at all costs. His soul was soaring knowing the Nelyo was there, not dead and rotting in some deep dark crevasse underneath Angband but breathing and alive, right next to him. He cut off Nelyo’s hand at the wrist, thus freeing him from the manacle. It wasn’t hard at all, the hand was dead, had been dead for a long time. The flesh and bones of it was disintegrating and he knew that Morgoth was so terribly wicked, and clever. If somebody by magic managed to make the manacle open the poisons within the dead hand would kill the elf hanging from it. By cutting the hand off he saved Nelyo from that, but there was so much blood. The cut wasn’t a clean one, the wrist wasn’t that deteriorated but the bones had been pulled slightly apart and it made it easier. He used the drawstring from his cloak as a tourniquet and managed to stop the blood from spurting out but there was still a lot of bleeding. He wrapped Nelyo into the cloak and managed to get onto the back of the eagle without dropping him, which was a miracle in itself. But the fear and the desperation gave him extra strength and Nelyo was so light, like a toddler. 

And now they were soaring through the air, heading towards his father’s camp. The snow whipping at Fingon and he didn’t see where they were flying, he could only hope that the eagle knew where he wanted to go. He held onto Nelyo and kept whispering to him, begging him to hold on, to stay there. He spoke of their memories, of the good days which had seemed to last forever but now felt like they were an eternity ago. He spoke of their adventures in the wilds of Aman, of their siblings and families. He kept talking and didn’t know why, maybe he was afraid of the silence, maybe he felt that Nelyo ought to hear a friendly voice if this truly was the end. He simply didn’t know. 

He was so cold and so afraid but he refused to give up, refused to even think that Nelyo wouldn’t make it. The eagle was fast but the wind was moving in the wrong direction and it slowed them down. He kept praying, kept talking, tried not to think about the void underneath him, the empty air which seemed to pull at him. They had escaped from that cliff face, now he had to think ahead. 

The sun was setting when he saw the camp up ahead, he felt that Nelyo was breathing but it was so very faint and he feared the blood loss. He had never pictured this sort of scene in his mind, if one of them needed rescue it should have been him, never Nelyo. He had always sort of seen Nelyo as his protector, as the strong one. Now he was the strong one, the one who did step into action and got things done and somehow it felt strange but also good. He saw that elves started scurrying around when they became aware of the great eagle. The bird did break in the air and landed softly on the ground outside of the tents. Fingon collected his thoughts, tried to think in a calm and rational manner. “Call the healer, I have found Nelyafinwë, he is alive” 

Servants ran off as if their feet were on fire and some of the others there gathered, shocked by the sight. Fingon let himself slide down, the eagle did almost bow to allow that to happen and he held Nelyo so tight in his arms. It felt like holding a dead body, there was so little life left in him. Chaos did erupt, suddenly there were healers surrounding him and he carried Nelyo to the infirmary they had built. A large tent with a primitive oven, and some very simple wooden bath tubs. He refused to let go until the head healer did show him a cot. “Lay him there, do not worry, we have got this” 

He did obey, reluctantly. He realized that there would be no way he could hide it now, he would never have found Nelyo if they hadn’t been bonded. One of the healers did place a hand on his shoulder. “Come, there is nothing you can do now, we will assess his injuries and then someone will come to you right away. You need rest, and food” 

He felt his stomach growl, hadn’t thought about that for days but he was hungry, and weak and terribly tired. There wasn’t muscle in his body which didn’t ache and he felt faint as he tried to get up. The elleth did shake her head. “You have pushed yourself way too far my lord, follow me”

He did obey, he was taken into a different room and made to lay down and he was given a cup with something warm which did taste a bit like honey. Before more than a few minutes were gone he was asleep. 

When he did wake up his father was there, his eyes were red, he had been crying and Fingon tried to remember what had happened. It was a shock when he felt the bond snap into place, way stronger than for a very long time. Nelyo was alive, and he was nearby. Fingolfin did sigh and walked over, sat down next to the cot Fingon was laying in. Fingon didn’t know what to do, or say.   
Fingolfin did clear his voice. “Son, I have….” 

He had to sob, wiping his eyes. “I was so afraid, when they said you had just left, I was sure you were dead, that you were lost to us all. And then…then you just return like that, on the back of one of Manwë’s eagles, carrying Nelyafinwë. I have never been so proud of you son, or as angry. You…it was madness” 

Fingon swallowed, his throat was dry. “How long have I been asleep?” 

Fingolfin smiled, a somewhat trembling smile. “A whole day, they gave you sleeping draught, you were completely exhausted” 

Fingon swore, tried to sit up. “Nelyo!”

Fingolfin put a hand on his shoulder, pushed him back onto the bed, gently. “No, relax, it is alright. He is alive, they have worked on him since yesterday” 

Fingon closed his eyes. “What is the outcome?” 

Fingolfin sighed and took his hand. “Before I answer, I want you to answer me and answer me with honesty. Is he your lover?” 

Fingon took a deep breath. “He is my husband, we have sworn the oath, in the name of Eru” 

Fingolfin looked down. “I thought so, I suspected that but I wasn’t quite sure. You have always been so good at hiding your true self.” 

Fingon did scoff. “Really? I have always felt as if I was carrying my feelings on my sleeve” 

Fingolfin shook his head. “No, you were always the enigma, the one I never truly reached.” 

Fingon tilted his head. “So, how bad is it?” 

His father made a grimace. “I have to admit that I have never seen anything like that, we eldar can survive a lot but what he has been through…it is amazing” 

Fingon stared at him, his expression one of determination, of calm will and he was shocked to realize that his son truly had come into his own now, become a person he was proud to know. “The worst wound was of course that wrist, did you do that?” 

Fingon did nod. “Yes, he was hung onto the mountain side, as a scarecrow. The manacle was magical, couldn’t be broken open. I had to cut the hand off, to free him” 

Fingolfin blinked, indeed, Fingon had changed. “It was a good idea son, you got him down from there.” 

Fingon had to blink away tears. “I would have killed him if the eagle hadn’t arrived, to spare him more torment” 

Fingolfin nodded slowly, feeling a bit sick to the gut. “I see” 

Fingon did sit up, feeling slightly dizzy. “The wrist cannot be the only problem?” 

Fingolfin shook his head. “He is a mess, the shoulder is completely ruined, the bones and sinews and everything pulled out of alignment and much is torn too. He is emaciated to the point where they cannot feed him anything but small drops of watered out broth or else his inner organs will shut down. He has cuts and bruises and his skin is so dry and cracked it bleeds if he moves even an inch. He has several old fractures and wounds, some infected and he has parasites too. Both internal and external ones.” 

Fingon did shudder, it didn’t exactly shock him, the huge mass of filthy hair had to be home to both lice and fleas and probably other critters too. He managed to pull himself together. “When can I see him?” 

Fingolfin looked at his son, and looked deeply. Fingon had always been a bit of an enigma, the one of his children he barely understood. He could understand Aredhel’s reckless rebelliousness, Turgon’s rigidity and need for order and control. He could even understand Argon’s wild fury and lack of patience. But Fingon had always been a hard nut to crack, as if his very being was a veneer, hard and flawless and without any cracks whatsoever. He had never known his son, not in the right sense of the word and now, now he felt that he had gotten a deeper insight into his true nature than ever before. And it did make him proud, very proud. He saw now that if he ever had doubted Fingon it was pointless, he was the strongest among his offspring. “He isn’t awake yet, they keep him sedated. His body needs to recover before he can awaken. The shock could in itself kill him” 

Fingon swallowed. “I need to see him, even if he is asleep” 

Fingolfin managed to create a wry grin. “Have you seen yourself? Don’t you think you should get cleaned up at first? If he does wake up and see you he might think that you are an orc” 

Fingon blinked, took a swift look at his own outfit. He was covered with dust, mud and caked blood, his hair was a matted mess and there was thick layers of dust on his skin too. He had to look frightful. And he was hungry, terribly so even. He made a grimace. “I look like…shit”

Fingolfin nodded. “True words, come, there is a bath house here, and I will order that a meal is prepared” 

Fingon took a deep breath, a bath did sound like heaven. “Nothing heavy, please”

Fingolfin smiled. “I know, your stomach is sensitive now” 

Fingon did get up and followed his father to the bath tent, he was left there and sat down while a servant filled the tub with warm water. He got out of his travelling gear slowly, his muscles aching and his body felt slow, heavy. The servant did offer to pour some water over him before he got inn, just to get rid of the worst of the grime and he did agree. He wasn’t shy and right now it wouldn’t have mattered if he was, the need to get clean was overwhelming. The bath was wonderful, and he managed to clear his thoughts. He had done this to save his husband, to save what he saw as his future and hope.   
But now he did realize that he had done more than that, he had potentially managed to mend the crack between the two sides of the family. It was…unintended but it could fix a lot. With Nelyo back it was no doubt that the brothers would calm down a bit, Nelyo had always had a very calm demeanour and he was a diplomat to the fingertips. The others not so much so. Kanafinwë was doing his very best and nobody doubted that but he had little to no authority over some of his brothers, they were likely to run amok and ignore his commands if they believed that it would help them fulfil the goddamn oath. 

There were fresh clothes being brought for him and he did spend some time braiding his hair, getting the golden ribbons he was so famous for into the thick locks. He wanted to look his best for his beloved. After that he got some thin ale and two bowls of soup, he had no idea of what sort of soup it was but it did taste like a vision of heaven and it was just wonderful. He felt reborn, remade. Strength was returning to him and he walked slowly towards the healers tents, the head healer did greet him with a short nod. Nelyo was on the bed, and Fingon had to choke a sob at the sight. He did look horrible still.   
They had shaved his head and the skin was covered with scabs and small sores, the remnants of bites and cuts. The shoulder on the right side was oddly shaped, he hadn’t noticed back then, it hadn’t even crossed his mind but now he did see how disfigured his cousin had become. The arm was covered in bandages and he did see that every inch of skin visible was also covered, with a thick sort of ointment of some sorts. The healer did send him a swift grin. “His skin was so very damaged by the sun and the wind, but it can be fixed. The shoulder is a different problem” 

Fingon did wet his lips. “Explain please” 

The healer sighed. “The joint is a mess, everything is pulled apart. And it has fused in that position, as it is now it cannot be lowered. We will have to force it back into a more normal position but that cannot be done until he is stronger, he is so very weak.” 

Fingon went over, slowly, grasped the left hand gently, held it. “He will make it?” 

The healer nodded. “Probably yes, the flame of life is strong in him. It will not fail.” 

Fingon looked down upon the sleeping face, he wondered if Nelyo was dreaming, if he would be glad he was freed. There was a chance that he would be angry, disappointed even. After all, Fingon had cut off his sword hand, it would probably feel like a betrayal of some sorts. “He is strong yes, and he will be stronger even. I can sense it. He will use the pain and the sorrow and wield it like a flame, against the enemy” 

The healer cocked her head. “Do my lord have the gift of foresight?” 

Fingon shook his head. “No, but I know him, like my own heart” 

The healer probably understood the situation already, she just nodded and carried on with her work and he knew she wouldn’t tell a soul. He stared at Nelyo again, the scars and the lack of muscle, the sunken face, he wasn’t fair at the moment but he would be again. There was little doubt about that. He would make sure it was so, if it took all that he was, he would restore what had been. 

It took two weeks before they dared to awaken Nelyo, by then they had reset the shoulder and he did look a lot better. They fed him every two hours with a very fatty broth and smeared his skin twice a day. Fingon had barely left his side, he knew that his father was working on how they were to explain this to Nelyo’s brothers. They didn’t want to tell them too early for they feared that Nelyo was too weak to be moved and it was likely that his brothers would demand that he was moved to their camp. By now a thin dusting of hair had regrown all over his scalp and he didn’t look as emaciated, as ill. 

The healers were optimistic, but they warned Fingon. Nelyo would never be the same, the head healer felt it in him when she worked on him, the memories of horrors beyond description. Of deeds so foul they barely had a name and the nightmares would haunt him for a very long time. He wasn’t broken but not far from it, the enemy had such terrible weapons at their disposal and the brutal and yet subtle murder of all hope their must vicious one. Fingon knew, Melkor had already proved that he was a master manipulator, a clever and cunning force to be reckoned with, capable of twisting and turning the mind in ways uncounted. 

He was there when Nelyo woke up, holding his breath, daring not to breathe, to move. Nelyo was laid up so he was almost sitting, the head supported by soft pillows and the healers had burned some incense, a smell which was very soothing and relaxing. The deep grey eyes did swerve around, confusion and fear all over the face. Then the eyes fell on Fingon and he managed to smile, a very shaky and uncertain grin. Nelyo let out a whimper. It did sound pathetic, as if you were kicking a puppy. Fingon cleared his throat. “It is me, it is real, I am here” 

Nelyo clawed at the covers, become aware of the lack of a hand and stared at the bandaged stump with an oddly empty gaze. “It…it cannot be..” 

The voice was very different from before, it had been rich, smooth and lovely. Now it was raspy, raw, barely audible. Fingon knew why, it was the result of years upon years of screams, of horror. “It is me Nelyo, I swear” 

Nelyo let the arm fall down, blinked. “I…thought I was dreaming again…you cannot be…” 

He started to sob. “This is a trick, a trick. It cannot be real” 

Fingon got over to the side of the bed, he did kneel down. “But it is, I am not some phantom, not some vision. I did save you, from that cliff, remember?”

Nelyo stared at him again, eyes growing larger, tears streaming down the weary face. “I…you played the harp…and then an eagle…pain…” 

Fingon cringed. “Yes, I am so sorry. I had to….cut you free” 

Nelyo swallowed. “I still cannot believe, Sauron is so clever, so very clever, reads my mind, plays with my dreams, my hopes” 

Fingon swallowed hard. “Alright, remember the rhubarb pie? The one I ate under the table in the garden, the mess I made?” 

Nelyo blinked. “I….I remember…now? I didn’t….” 

Fingon nodded. “If you didn’t when you were a prisoner then how could the enemy possibly know? You cannot snatch something from someone’s mind when there is nothing there right?”

Nelyo stretched out his left hand, and Fingon leaned closer, let his cousin and husband touch one of the braids. “It is…you…oh Eru” 

Fingon felt tears falling down his cheeks. “It is me yes, it is me beloved, you are safe” 

Nelyo made an odd sound. “I…how can I…” 

He stared at the stump, blinked. “I cannot be king now, I cannot wield a sword anymore, cannot fight” 

Fingon grasped his hand again. Held it hard, held it firmly, tried to transfer as much confidence and hope as he could. “That is bullshit and you know it. I will train you, I will make you strong again. I will make sure that nobody will question you and your strength ever again” 

Nelyo tried to smile. “I have…missed you. You were my hope” 

Fingon smiled through tears. “As were you mine. Oh Nelyo, I am so glad you are alive” 

Nelyo stared at the stump of his arm again, his eyes distant. “What is left of us love?”

Fingon dared to lean over, to embrace his husband gently and Nelyo did return the hug, slowly. “What is left? I will tell you what is left my love. What is left is our love, our trust in each other, in our oath and our future. What is left is us, and I swear to you here and now, I will not betray your trust and your love” 

Nelyo closed his eyes, there was a hint of peace in his expression. “Yes, what is left…is us…”


End file.
